Get Even

  “It can’t be a coincidence,” Margot said.

  “So that means we’re off the hook, right?” Olivia said, inching forward on her stool. “If Coach Creed, Rex and Amber, or this Beeman guy killed Ronny, then it wasn’t one of us.”

  Margot shrugged. “It’s possible, but we still have some major snags.”

  “Such as?” Bree asked.

  Margot stared at her coldly. “Such as the DGM cards.”

  “No one broke into my house,” she said. “So whoever killed Ronny made their own.”

  “Unless John Baggott took one.” Margot’s innocent smile was at odds with the sarcastic lilt to her voice.

  “Why do you keep bringing John into this?” Bree asked. “He didn’t have a motive to kill Ronny.”

  Margot raised her chin. “Are you sure about that?”

  “John didn’t even know Ronny,” Bree said. “Let alone kill him.”

  Bree’s anger flared when Margot brought up John. It seemed over the top, considering he was the most likely person to have access to the DGM cards. Why did Bree so adamantly refuse to consider that he could be a suspect? “Did he tell you he didn’t know Ronny?”

  Bree pursed her lips. “Well, no, but—”

  “They had a fight,” Olivia blurted out.

  “How would you know?” Bree snapped.

  Olivia smiled sweetly. “You’ve been avoiding each other in drama, and he’s been eating lunch with Shane White all week.”

  More secrets. What was else Bree hiding?

  “There are plenty of real suspects,” Bree said slowly. “Coach Creed, Rex and Amber.” She paused and swallowed. “Christopher Beeman.”

  “And Theo Baranski,” Kitty added.

  Margot raised her eyebrows. “Theo?”

  “He told me that Ronny tried to blackmail him. And that he wasn’t sorry Ronny was dead.”

  “He had an alibi, though,” Olivia said. “Didn’t he?”

  Margot chewed on another fingernail. “Records from the security system at the Baranski home showed that he didn’t leave the house that night.” She shook her head. “But that’s easy to get around, if you know how.”

  “But if Theo killed Ronny,” Olivia began, clearly confused, “why would he confess?”

  Margot shrugged. “If he knew he had an airtight alibi, why not?”

  Silence descended over the warehouse. Instead of struggling to find one credible suspect, they’d managed to find a half dozen or so. How were they going to figure out who killed Ronny before the police closed in on DGM?

  “We should tell the police,” Olivia said. “About all of it.”

  Bree threw her hands up. “How? Just waltz into the station and say, ‘Hi! We’re DGM! We’re not the killers, but maybe you should check out these upstanding members of society who might be!’ Yeah, that’ll go down well.”

  Olivia glared at her. “Why not? I get the feeling someone’s already been telling the police more than they need to know.”

  Margot wrapped her arms tightly around her body as if suddenly uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation. “What are you implying?”

  “The cops knew about my date with Ronny.”

  Bree shook her head. “So what? Weren’t there like a half-dozen patrons there plus the barista? Any of them could have pointed the finger at you.”

  “Or it could have been one of us,” Olivia said.

  “No one in this room would narc,” Kitty said solemnly. “We swore an oath.”

  “Princess has a point,” Bree said. “All of us have the opportunity to save ourselves. Go to the cops, turn ourselves in, and point the finger at the rest.”

  The skin on the back of Kitty’s neck prickled. Was Bree threatening them?

  Olivia narrowed her eyes. “All of us, or just you?”

  Bree rocketed to her feet. “I’m putting all the options on the table. Isn’t that what this meeting was for? Margot’s got Ronny’s hard drive. Olivia and Kitty were seen with Ronny the day he died. And I was in the room where he was murdered. There’s evidence against every one of us. How long before someone chooses to save their own neck?” Bree scooped her surplus bag off the table and bolted for the door. “Sleep on that, kids.”

  Kitty realized, as the door clanged shut behind Bree, that she’d left without saying the pledge.

  The square was now a triangle.

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  THIRTY-THREE

  THE LAWN IN FRONT OF BISHOP DUMAINE WAS TEEMING WITH people by the time Kitty and Mika arrived. Hundreds of candles flickered in the twilight, as they joined the mass of students and parents gathered to commemorate the death of Ronny DeStefano.

  Kitty felt like a hypocrite as she selected a candle from a box on the front steps and carefully lit it from Mika’s. Wasn’t she responsible for Ronny’s death? Even if she hadn’t stood over his sleeping body with a baseball bat, even though it looked more and more likely that his murder had nothing to do with DGM, the opportunity to frame DGM for his murder might have tipped the killer’s hand toward homicide. And for that, Kitty was responsible.

  “Lot of people here,” Mika said hesitantly. “You know, considering he was kind of a douche.”

  That’s an understatement.

  More people flooded the front lawn, pressing in around them like it was church on Easter Sunday. Kitty searched the crowd fleetingly, hoping to catch a glimpse of Olivia, Bree, or Margot, but the sun’s rays were rapidly fading, and in the flickering light of several hundred candles, every face looked like a jack-o’-lantern leering at her from the darkness.

  “He’s over there,” Mika said. She pointed to the far side of the lawn. “With the drama class.”

  Donté towered above the theater crowd, his candle held waist-high, and Kitty couldn’t help but notice that Olivia stood at his side.

  “Hey, Mika!” Theo pushed his way through the crowd. His eyes sparkled with excitement, his hands conspicuously candle-free. “I’ve got twenty people showing up at the park tonight to help make signs for next week’s rally. Is it still happening?”

  “Shh!” Mika hissed. “Not so loud, Theo.”

  “Sorry,” he mouthed silently.

  “Acorn Street park,” Mika whispered. “Right after the vigil.”

  Theo nodded and gave Mika an exaggerated A-OK, then backed slowly into the crowd.

  “Someone’s excited,” Kitty said, watching Theo disappear across the lawn.

  Mika let out a slow breath. “I think I’ve created a monster.”

  “Theo?”

  “Kid’s gone ballistic. Organizing people, supplies. Who knew he had . . .” Mika paused as she caught sight of something over Kitty’s shoulder. Her eyes grew wide. “Barbara Ann!” she cried.

  Kitty froze.

  “Hey, Mika.”

  Mika grabbed Kitty by the arm and spun her around. “You remember Kitty, right?”

  “Hey!” Kitty said, turning around to face Barbara Ann with the biggest smile she could muster.

  “Long time, no see.” Barbara Ann’s face was implacable in the gathering darkness, illuminated by the fluctuating candle flame. But unlike at their meeting at the Coffee Clash, Barbara Ann’s voice sounded sharp, each word tinged with attitude.

  “I haven’t seen you in forever,” Mika said. “How have you been? What are you up to? Are you still playing club ball?”

  “I’m good,” Barbara Ann said. “I’m at Gunn now, but I don’t play anymore.”

  “What?” Mika exclaimed. “What the hell? Girl, you’re too good to not be playing.”

  Barbara Ann shrugged. “Don’t want to. Not after what happened.”

  Barbara Ann stared right at Kitty, her eyes teeming with hostility. Something had changed since their last meeting at the Coffee Clash. Barbara Ann been reserved that day, but not hostile. Now, she looked as if she wanted to tear Kitty limb fro
m limb.

  “I’m sorry,” Mika said. “Uberti is a dickwad for kicking you out of school.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about.” Barbara Ann’s gaze never faltered. “It’s amazing the things you find out about people you thought you could trust, you know?”

  “Don’t worry,” Mika barreled on. “F.U.’s going to get what’s coming to him. Call it payback.”

  Mika might have missed the pointedness of Barbara Ann’s comment, but Kitty did not. Barbara Ann’s face was tense, her nostrils flared. “Payback,” she said slowly. “I like that.”

  If Kitty had ever had any doubt that Barbara Ann blamed her for getting kicked out of school, it vanished in that instant.

  Kitty thought of the anonymous envelopes, full of someone else’s secrets. Could it be that someone knew hers? Could the same person who pointed her toward Bree and Christopher Beeman have spilled her dirty secret to Barbara Ann?

  Olivia stood silently by Donté’s side. She tried not to smile. That would be totally inappropriate at a somber occasion like a candlelight vigil, but standing there with him, she could almost pretend that they were still a couple.

  That sensation was short-lived. The crowd swelled and shifted, Donté was shuffled away, and suddenly Olivia felt someone press up behind her.

  “Liv,” Rex whispered in her ear. His voice was thick and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. “You’re looking fine.”

  “Uh, thanks?”

  Was he really hitting on her at a memorial service?

  “You wanna explain to me why we’ve never hooked up?”

  Because you’re my best friend’s boyfriend? Olivia opened her mouth to tell Rex to piss off, when she paused. Rex had definitely been drinking. And one thing Olivia had learned about a drunk Rex was that he wouldn’t remember anything the next day. It was the perfect opportunity to troll for information on his connection to Ronny. Swallowing her comeback, Olivia turned to Rex and smiled sweetly. “This vigil is so sad, don’t you think?”

  “Totally.” Rex leaned closer. “Totally sad.”

  “I heard you and Ronny went way back,” she said, her voice low and soothing.

  Rex swayed. “Nah. Only met him twice.”

  How could Rex have had a history with Ronny if they’d only met twice? Olivia racked her brain, trying to think what other connection they might have had. “Didn’t you know him in junior high or something?”

  “Junior high . . .” Rex abruptly stopped swaying. His eyes flitted over the crowd. “Goddamn homo. Is he here?”

  Who was he talking about? Olivia took a stab in the dark. “Do you mean Christopher?”

  Rex’s head snapped back to her. “You know about him?” He grabbed her arm, digging his fingers into her flesh. “What do you know? Tell me what you—”

  “Rex!” Amber hissed. Rex released Olivia’s arm as his girlfriend wedged herself between them. “What are you doing?”

  Rex glared at Olivia. “Nothing.”

  “Uh-huh,” Amber said. “Sure.” She dragged him away, shooting Olivia a look that would have flayed the skin off a lion.

  So, something happened between Christopher Beeman and Rex in junior high. Ronny must have known about it somehow. Kitty said that Ronny had tried to blackmail Theo; had he done the same with Rex? And if so, would it be enough to kill for?

  The key seemed to lie with Christopher Beeman. Who was he?

  Bree leaned against the side of the school, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her hoodie, and gazed out over the assembled crowd. She wondered how many of them had actually known Ronny. A handful, she guessed. So why had so many people gathered to mourn his loss? Curiosity? A sense of duty? Community support? Or was it just the sort of thing you did when one of your classmates was murdered? Bree had no idea. Hell, she had no idea why she was there, other than that something had drawn her to the vigil.

  The front door of the school opened, and Father Uberti walked out onto the steps, followed by a bull-chested man and a bleached-blonde woman, both dressed in black. They held hands and stood at Father Uberti’s shoulder as he addressed the crowd.

  “Thank you all for coming tonight,” Father Uberti began. “In the face of a senseless tragedy, it is comforting to find such tremendous support in the community.” He gestured to the couple behind him. “Mr. and Mrs. DeStefano have asked me to convey their gratitude for all the sympathy you’ve given over the last few days.” He turned and shook Mr. DeStefano’s hand.

  Bree felt her throat catch. However much of a jerk Ronny might have been, his parents looked absolutely devastated, and Bree couldn’t help but wonder if her own parents would feel such overwhelming sadness at the loss of their only daughter, or if that degree of sorrow would be reserved only for the death of Henry Jr.

  Father Uberti turned back to the crowd. “And now I’ll lead us in a prayer of remembrance.” He bowed his head. “Let us pray.”

  As Father Uberti began his prayer, Bree caught sight of Shane hanging out near the back of the crowd. He was standing by himself, checking his cell phone. Bree hastily wiped a stray tear from her cheek with the back of her hand and slowly made her way toward him.

  “Hi!” Bree whispered.

  “Bree!” His eyes strayed to her hands. “You don’t have a candle.”

  “Oh.” Right, it was a candlelight vigil and she was the only person there without a candle. Good job, Bree.

  “It’s okay. I don’t think Ronny will mind.” He elbowed her in the arm as if he’d just made a tremendous joke.

  Bree started. Making a joke about a dead kid at his vigil was borderline tasteless, and it made Bree vaguely uncomfortable.

  “Amen,” Father Uberti said.

  The entire crowd replied in unison. “Amen.”

  “I know many of you are concerned about the safety of your children,” Father Uberti began. “But I want to assure you that both the Archdiocese and the Menlo Park Police Department are doing everything they can to protect the students of Bishop DuMaine. In addition to the continued police presence on campus, in the coming days, we’ll be implementing a new peer monitoring system.”

  “Peer monitoring?” Shane asked. “Does he mean like TV cameras?”

  “I think he’s talking about the ’Maine Men,” Bree said. The idea that those cavemen would be given even more power made Bree’s stomach churn.

  “Hey!” Something caught Shane’s eye across the lawn. “There’s Bagsie,” he said. “Damn, Bree. Cordy’s trying to muscle in on your territory.”

  “Huh?” Bree followed Shane’s line of sight and saw John standing with his mom, Cordy hanging off his arm.

  “She’s such a groupie,” Shane said with a sigh. “Not a bad kisser, though.”

  As Bree stared at John and Cordy, she couldn’t decide which image was more disturbing: Cordy making out with Shane or Cordy making out with John.

  “And on Monday,” Father Uberti continued, “there will be an announcement of a new school-wide safety policy. Details will be emailed to parents via the contact network, so please be sure to read the email carefully. I know you will find the information”—he paused—“interesting.”

  Bree was skeptical. The last time F.U. had implemented a new school-wide policy he’d given birth to the ’Maine Men.

  This couldn’t be good.

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  THIRTY-FOUR

  LOGAN SAT DOWN AT MARGOT’S LIBRARY TABLE AT EXACTLY nine o’clock Saturday morning, as promised. “Hey!” he said, his voice respectfully subdued but still upbeat. “Ready to hammer out this project?”

  Margot smiled and shut her laptop, forcing Ronny’s email correspondence with the mysterious Christopher Beeman to the back of her mind. “Absolutely.” Logan only had two hours to spare before rehearsal. Ronny’s files could wait.

  They got right to work, sketching an outline and divv
ying up the assignment. Logan was surprisingly knowledgeable about congressional committees, and even made some impressive suggestions on the logistics of the project.

  “I didn’t see you at the vigil last night,” Logan said, as they settled into research.

  “I had one of my extension classes,” Margot said, stealing a glance at him.

  “One of? How many are you taking?”

  Margot swallowed. He was going to think she was some kind of psychotic overachiever. “Just two.”

  Logan was silent for a moment. “And you’re taking how many AP classes?”

  “Three.” Margot’s voice sounded very small.

  “No wonder you don’t have any time for the school play. Your schedule is too packed. Forget I even brought it up.”

  “No!” Margot blurted out, more forcefully than she would have liked. “I mean, the school play actually sounds like fun.”

  Logan looked at her sidelong. “Are you sure? If you have an aneurysm due to lack of sleep, I’d feel hella guilty.”

  Margot smiled. “I’ll be okay.”

  “Promise?”

  Her smile widened. “Promise.”

  “Okay.” He checked his watch. “Rehearsal in thirty minutes. You coming with?”

  Margot grimaced. “I can’t,” she said. “My parents are expecting me home.”

  “Later this week?”

  “Um . . .”

  “Don’t worry. It’ll be cool.” He shoved the last of his books into his bag and zipped it up. “Besides, we’re going to need to work on this project again at some point. Kill two birds with one stone?”

  “Tuesday,” Margot said. Oh God, how was she going to clear it with her parents?

  “Perfect.” Logan pulled out his cell phone and added her to his calendar. “Oh, and what are you doing next Sunday night?”

  “For rehearsal?”

  “No,” Logan said slowly. “Actually, some of the dudes in the cast are in a band and they’re doing a show at this all-ages club in town. . . .”